


Ripped From The Earth And Exposed To The Sun

by polyesterfootbob



Series: RWBY fics [3]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, Minor Character Death, hope you like backstory lmao, semblance speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:22:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25534285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polyesterfootbob/pseuds/polyesterfootbob
Summary: "All you ever learned was pain and violence, and now you're too afraid to leave it! Such a tragedy..."
Series: RWBY fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1844821
Kudos: 16





	Ripped From The Earth And Exposed To The Sun

Aching.

Aching was a good word to use. The stinging bruise on his cheek? How his head feels at the nauseating alcohol fumes filling the air? His ringing ears at 'dear old mama and papa's' latest fight?

It made him ache.

"Quit yer' cryin, boy." Was he crying? Mercury couldn't tell. Numb face and all. "I SAID QUIT IT!" He froze. The man any sane person would hesitate to call a father sat back down, beer in hand, his focus returning to the television.

All things considered tonight was quiet. Maybe chalk that up to mom 'going out for cigarettes.'

That probably hurt most of all.

__________________________________________

The grass and dirt ran red as Mercury coughed up blood. Fourteen years later, and 'training days' were still the worst. 

"What kinda shit was that?" He bristled at the booming voice. "You try that on some huntsmen and yer' as good as dead boy."

Death. Why doesn't that scare him like it should?

"Again, and no semblance this time, ya got it? Can't use yer' legs if yer' stuck on crutches."

He sighs, and brings himself to his feet. 

Aching. 

Marcus' idea of training ached. Mercury's legs ached. 

_Just get through today...he'll leave you alone after this._

He couldn't place why, but that didn't make him feel much better.

Being alone ached too.

__________________________________________

"Again."

A shot goes off, birds scatter, and a target is reduced to splinters.

"Again."

Another round. Another target. Mercury held in his panting. _These stupid leg gun, things, are too damn heavy._ He tried to mask his straining, his father seemed...proud, for once. He can't let that slip away.

"Again."

"Nghh-" ***BANG*** One more shot.

He missed.

"You fuck up, come 'ere," Marcus reaches for him.

Mercury goes into panic mode.

"N-no! wait I can do it, let me try!"

"Nah-uh, you know the rules boy." Marcus unsheathes a large metal pipe he's dubbed Phobos, and lunges at Mercury.

" _STOP!_ " His voice rings out, a blue flash covers his body, and a rush of wind swirls around him. 

Marcus stumbles. "Oh you little bitch...you think you get to use yer' semblance on me and get away with it?"

The wind subsides, and Mercury recoils in fear. "D-dad come on, I didn't-"

"Shut the FUCK up! You tried that shit on me? Ya own dad? Look at 'cha, can't even take me on like a man. Hidin' behind yer' little magic trick. Yer' weak."

Aching. That was a good word for the stinging in his eyes as he tried to hold back tears.

"This is a crutch. This makes you WEAK, ya hear me? Tell ya what, you get this back when yer' not such a bitch."

He looms over Mercury, grabbing him by the throat. "Don't you worry kid, we'll get those weapons of yer's in shape..."

__________________________________________

Aching.

That was all that could be said about how he felt. The throbbing pain in his legs, a dull roar where his knees should be.

The cold, unfeeling metal scraping against his skin.

But worst of all.

The gnawing, vacuous, emptiness in his chest. Every so often his aura flickered to life. Empty, vacant white replacing what was once brilliant blue. It hurt.

It burned.

It ached.

__________________________________________ 

Midnight. The house was quiet. Mercury stumbled down the halls.

_No more...no more..._

A switchblade gripped in hand. His father's, labeled Deimos. He hated it. He recalled every scratch, and scrape, and cut it'd made in his skin over time. But tonight?

Tonight was time for payback.

__________________________________________

Aching.

His fingers ached as he dragged the body across the lawn. His eyes ached at the brilliant orange glow of the fire he'd lit. His face ached as the bruises set in. _One last gift from the old man..._

The battle was quick. Marcus taught him well. And with no semblance to steal, it wasn't like 'dear old dad' had a wildcard to pull out.

He spots two figures approaching the burning house. A woman in red, and another with green hair. _What now..._

He drops the body and faces them head on, panting heavily. 

"What are you looking at!?"

The woman in red speaks, voice like silk. Silk laced with poison. "I'm looking for Marcus Black."

He spits blood, and gestures to the corpse behind him. "There you go."

The green haired woman looks at him, then to the body, then back to him. " _That's_...the assassin?"

_Gee, real bright one here...least she's got her looks goin' for her._

"And you're his son." The woman in red starts, grinning at him. "We saw your fight from the treeline. He's taught you well." 

He paused. Looking a bit lost, he responds, "Guess so."

Compliments are kind of new to him.

"What's your name?"

"Mercury."

"Mercury..." She starts, seemingly gauging how he'd respond to her next question. "Tell me, are you _anything_ like your father?"

He turns to the body, white hair stained with dirt and blood. 

"No..." He turns back to the pair.

He sees the grin on the woman in red's face

For a moment. Just a moment. The aching subsides.

"I'm better."

**Author's Note:**

> A little speculation on everyone's favorite kicky asshole lmao.  
> Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
